Life. A 6'6" southpaw hurler.

I don't know much. But I figured out over the last few months that I do know one thing. Life's a major league pitcher.

Life has a nasty 12 to 6 curve, a crippling slider, and can even break out a paralyzing knuckler from time to time. His fastball is deceiving, and comes at a steep angle, but it's hittable if he's underestimating the man in the box. Out from the on-deck circle, I'm ready. Finally. Life's imposing to say the least. I'm digging back in, and it's my chance to take the lead in what's been a see-saw battle for years. I'm standing in the box, knees knocking, hoping and praying for a fastball right in my wheelhouse. Out of nowhere, I have a moment of calm, and somehow I know that a two-seam heater is exactly what's coming. I can feel it. First time I've felt anything like it in forever. It's like I'm in his head. I have the upper hand. I'm adjusting my stance, my grip, taking slow, steady breaths, just waiting...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Windy City Musings '08

Where to begin. Ding Dong the Hip Hop Party Clown? The Bean? Dirty Dancing? Buddy Guy? "Chuck" at PF Chang's?

Of all the craziness that was four days in Chicago over Thanksgiving, Buddy Guy's Legends blues club will be the etch-a-sketch image I'll draw for you here. Why? Because it was the most blogworthy event, that's why, boo. Though Ding Dong might get his own story later.

I'm going to do this like a movie that shows you the end first. And then I'll say: "4 days earlier" or something like that. I hate movies that do that. But I thought it would be fun. So here goes.

Picture two inebriated dudes skipping across the skating rink at Millenium Park. The security guard was particularly jovial, but I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic when he screamed "GET OFF THE ICE!" - I could only assume he was watching out for our own safety. Everybody (sober) knows that recently zambonied ice is hell to walk on. He was just making sure we didn't fall on our bums. Right?


5.5 hours earlier ---------

We were just finishing our meal at PF Chang's (which, might I say, was subpar at best), when we officially decided to make the move to a blues club. I had never been to one, and for most in our group, visits to blues clubs in the past had been lackluster. But we had our heads up. We expected greatness. So we got a cab, told him where we were heading, and I couldn't help but notice a smirk on the cabby's face. I chalked it up to him thinking "this bunch of honkies is in for quite a surprise" - ten minutes later I figured out why the smirk. It was 9pm and the particular corner he dropped us on was dead quiet. Like it was waiting for a gunshot to break the silence. We hurried in and we were 5 of the first 10 people there. But the door guy promised a big time, so we decided to feel it out. I arranged for us to sit beside the stage, within sweat-dripping distance of the band.

The first beer went down well. A Kalamazoo, which I'm told is one of the better draft beers from the region...Anyway, the first band started, the Cash Box Kings. The lead guy was on a harmonica, and he seemed a bit out of his element. He improved as the set went on, but the first couple songs were pretty rough. The guitarist, Billy Flynn, was a badass. He's playing all the guitar on the soundtrack to the upcoming Beyonce movie "Cadillac Records" - wow.

Second band. Four beers in. All Kalamazoos. Hey, I dig the stuff. Lil Ed and the Blues Imperials. Lil Ed is 5'4" and dressed all in red. Hilarious. But he's not just a cartoon character. These guys are the real deal. Two guitars, drums and a bass. Solid set. But the kicker...Buddy Guy shows up. In his Bill Cosby holiday sweater and red Doc Martens. He sang some ditty about trying to sassify a 19-year-old. Dirty. Funny. Creepy. Talent oozed from this 72-year-old dude. Amazing really.

After six beers, PJ and I mustered up the courage to go meet Mr. Guy. Here's the full exchange:
Me: Hey Buddy
Buddy: Hey guys, what's crackin?
Me: Love your place!
Buddy: Thanks guys. Thanks for coming.
Me: So you getting back up on stage tonight?
Buddy: Nah, gonna let Ed and the boys have the spotlight tonight. They deserve it.
Me: What's all this jive about the 19-year-old you're singing about? [opening can o' worms]
Buddy: Aw man, you don't even know. These young ones are impossible to handle!
Me: What do you mean?
Buddy: What do I mean? I mean, I only need one viagra with those! With any female my age, I need at least two!
[awkward silence]
Me: That right? Well...I don't need any viagra. No matter how old the girl is!
Buddy: Just wait my young brother.
Me: [changing subject] Say Buddy, what you drinking? [looking at the plastic cup filled to the brim with ice and a yellow liquid]
Buddy: This? Oh its a Heineken.
Me: But it has a ton of ice in it?
Buddy: Yep. Traveling around Europe drinking hot beer will make a man do some crazy things! So I had to put some damn ice in it. Haven't ever gone back. Beer just can't be cold enough to me.

And that was it. Easily the most famous person I've ever talked to. And here's proof. A) Buddy Guy on wiki, B)
The night ended with a cab ride to the park, where we parked 6 hours earlier. Freaking awesome Friday night in the windy city. Would highly consider doing it all over again.

Oh PowerBar, why can I not eat you?

You stare at me every morning from your dark home in my second desk drawer. Longing for me to choose you over the enemy, the almighty McMuffin. You tempt me with your shiny wrapper, your incredible self-portraits and your claims of physical prowess and well-being you might bring should I choose you over the warmer, more obvious breakfast option. Alas, I find myself hopelessly unable to test the waters with you. You are just beyond my taste bud spectrum I fear. In other words, it's not you, it's me. I'm afraid you might exceed your "Best if consumed by" date - or whatever you call it - and maybe I'm secretly looking forward to that day. You're reliable because you're always an option but you're probably too good to be true. You're just a temptress. Outer shell of chocolate, inner ingredients of fake nougat, coconut and some nuts I've never seen before. [insert TWSS here]. Taste of cardboard, old sawdust and the color brown. You do have one glimmer of hope. Maybe some day when a combination of variables come together, we will meet. Your perfect storm would include me running late for work, slightly hungover, no money, and a growling appetite. Then, you might meet your fate. Until then, keep praying that you can alter your Best if date, cuz I don't see it happening anytime soon.

Shameless plug for a cool new product

I'm sure most of you are familiar with what is typically referred to as a "coozie" - it is that wonderful invention that help keep your frothy brew chilly for 5 minutes longer than it would if left unsheathed. Well I have a new product that puts a nice spin onto this modern convenience. It's called Cap-a-Cooz. Check it out: www.capacooz.com. My buddies from college dreamed it up. See, if you're a fan of drinking brews out of bottles, as I am, its always a pain in the ass to have to find a bottle opener. Some inventions have come along help with this issue, like the credit card bottle opener, the board shorts bottle opener (which doubles as a wax comb), and the seldom used but always bragged about flip flop bottle opener.

Well, my friends, here's the newest way to open your beers. And keep them cool at the same time. $5.99+tax gets you one.

That's what she said in the elevator

I swear, maybe it's because it's my go-to humor injection to unfunny conversation, but I keep finding myself in the ultimate TWSS situations. See my post about voting last week.

I'm in the elevator this morning, and a co-worker and I are discussing our divergent breakfast habits. See, I prefer McDonald's most mornings, and she was carrying a McDonald's bag, so it was a natural conversation starter. Basically, she only gets McDonald's for one of two reasons: a) she's running late or b) she's out of milk at the office. She usually eats Crispix for breakfast, but she remembered that she was out of milk, hence the visit to Mickey D's for the sausage and egg bagel. She's a funny, loud redhead, known best for her laugh and running the annual March Madness pool at the office. So, whether she meant to say this or not, and I assume not, it will go down as one of the dirtier and most uncomfortable TWSS moments in my history of using the term. But it didn't stop me. Maybe it should have.

She was giving me her reasons for not wanting to eat cereal this morning, the last of which was "It's just not as good when it's dry."

Yep, that's what she said.

Monday is only one day

Unfortunately. And I've never said that before. But today is different. I had a restful Sunday, got some decent sleep, and just have an overwhelming sense of positive energy this morning. So now the trick is to parlay this on to the rest of the week. And then further. I'm going to try something today. Since I know several things that can alter my mood (positively and negatively), I'm going to avoid those today. I will stay away from the book of faces, I'm going to stay off gchat, and I'm going to focus on getting a head start on work for the week. Music, work, a good lunch, and an evening of tv (Chuck, Heroes, then some MNF). That should ensure Monday stays cool. One [good] day at a time.

An open letter to bartenders

I have a drinking problem. Surprisingly, I don't think the problem is that I drink too much. It's the consequences of my drinking actions that have me concerned. While I enjoy the process, the results are definitely not always equally enjoyable.

Which leads me to my main point. I cannot go at this alone. I need a sponsor, an ally in this war, someone to keep me accountable. I don't see anyone more fitting for this role than you Mr./Ms. Bartender. You can be my piano man right? No pressure. All you have to do is keep me focused. I don't need medication, just your dedication. If you could, keep me from staying until you turn the lights on. Don't let me help you stack the barstools. Don't let me have a to go cup. Don't let me tell the cab driver to take me to freedom. Or to his leader. Don't let me hide in the bathroom stall, hoping you'll leave soon and I can have the rest of the keg to myself. Don't allow me to continue spending money like I have it. I'll tip you better if you help me understand why I've ordered a round of shots for 14 people I don't know. Don't laugh at my jokes. Don't light my cigarettes (I'm still quitting). Don't allow me to declare "Late Night!" at any point. Don't let me use my weapon (phone or any other) after my fourth drink. Don't let me borrow yours because that would make our arrangement slightly uncomfortable. Don't refuse to tell me the woman I'm sitting next to is a trainwreck. In other words, don't rest on your laurels. Be proactive.

You see, we need each other. So let's start acting like the pals we've always been. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Come on buddy, follow these helpful suggestions and you and me can lick this problem once and for all.

Caption Contest

So this is a picture of a friend of mine who recently took up climbing. Couldn't help but notice some of the unique holds on this particular wall.

Let the caption contest begin!

Entry #1: That nude male statue cannot be to scale...

Voting can be fun

Let me preface this little nugget with one thought: What you are about to read is absolutely 100% true.

So I went to cast my vote for the next President, Vice President, Governor, Head of the Department of Labor (Go Cherie Berry-love your name!), and every other political office on my bubble sheet. I was dreading the waiting in line, which is the main reason I had put it off as long as I had. But I was pleasantly surprised when a nice man hollered at me for being in the wrong line. Funny, I didn't know there were two lines because one was outside, and one was all the way inside. I was supposed to be in the invisible line. Obviously.

The second line was much shorter. It was for us lazy citizens who needed to register in our current county of residence. I was fine with that. There were chairs, and wonderfully pleasant volunteers to chat with. When it came my turn to re-register, a nice older lady was assigned to help. Her name was Jo. She was probably pretty attractive 40 years ago, and if the timing had been a little different, something tells me we could have had a real shot at love. At least given it a go...tangent. Sorry. So as I'm sitting there making small talk with Jo, another volunteer settles in at her post to begin registering other lazy miscreants. The next dude in line saddles up across from the new lady, and begins making small talk. She appears confused, full of McDonald's and generally uncomfortable. Just as Jo is about to lend a hand, the new girl says to dude "Now, you'll have to be patient with me. This is the first time I've done this in a really long time. I'm a little rusty."

Now, I am sitting next to dude, and I just can't not do it. I held it in for as long as I could, but it was no use. I blurted "That's what she said..."

The entire second line heard it, and everyone started giggling. Then laughing. Then knee-slapping and high-fiving. Regardless of party affiliation, color, creed, age. It was an uproar. A good 3 minutes of solid entertainment. I loved it. I felt like I made a positive contribution to every second-line member's Saturday. [Pat on the back]

If you don't believe me, ask Erin Phillips. We went to elementary school together. Dude was her boyfriend. Hadn't seen her in 20 years. She enjoyed the moment as well. Thank you Steve Carell for making "That's what she said" aka TWSS aka TWSS HHHHHHH funny again.

Thoughts on October

It's over. My birth month. It's been a good month. Lots of things to celebrate. The overwhelming success of my fantasy football team (6-2; 2nd out of 16 teams), the football games (tailgates were more fun), the big birthday party, and the deepening of friendships that matter. Since my post about removing myself from the fast-paced social scene, I've noticed this change in my approach to life has really taken hold. I'm calmer, more content, and generally more fun to be around. I've realized I can't control what people think or have to say about me. I've recognized that the true friendships and family relationships I have are more important than anything else in the world. I've talked to my mom, dad, sister and brother more this month than any other month I can remember. Which is nice.

I'm now thinking about things on a whole new level. New ways to express myself, new ideas to think about, better ways of doing things. I want to continue to learn from the past and improve myself from those lessons. I'm taking back control of my life, and it feels gooooooood. Sorry for the introspection, just felt it...

Last Sunday morning was forgettable

woke up sunday morning.
remembered i left my car at the bar
so i decided to take the mongoose
[its a 10 year old bmx bike living in the garage]
the bar was 3-4 miles away
i stretched a little, brushed my teeth, and headed out
the front tire blew on the first downhill
so in my mind, i decided to run.
body didn't get the memo
had no breakfast, still a bit drunk
it was just cold enough to burn your ears
and i couldn't breath
with an e
about a mile in, i took a break.
vomit ensued. laced with toothpaste, tasting of haiglebombs and hell's bells brew
but i wasnt turning around
i was running down wade avenue with the taste of vomit fresh on my lips
saw at least 5 people i knew drive by
but pretended i was running for exercise so they wouldn't stop
just waved them on by. they knew what was happening, i could tell in their eyes
it took me 45 minutes to ride/walk 3.5 miles
that's not a good pace. lance would not approve
i was a bit worn out to say the least
oh the bike
had to pick it back up on the way from the bushes i stashed it in
barely fit in my backseat
the end

October is a big month

Sheesh. October is full already. Too many things to do, too little time. Work is picking up (yet I still find time to blog...priorities right?), the social calendar is busting at the seams, and I can't remember half the extra-curricular sports I've signed up for.

My birthday is Friday the 24th, and its going to be nuts. Big party at the house, tons of people, booze, band, etc. Be there or be square.

The weekend prior, I'll be traveling to Columbia, SC and Charlotte, NC for two football games (USC/LSU and Panthers/Saints). Pretty excited about that. So excited that I'm calling in drunk on Monday the 20th. [sorry boss if you're reading]...And this coming weekend, I'm heading to Charlotte for the Bank of America 500, the 5th race of the Chase. It was a blast last year, from what I remember anyway, and this year promises to be even better. At least I've got my scanner working again. That shit broke pre-race last year, leaving me no alternative but to drink my face off during the race.

The big news about this year's BofA is that Jessica Simpson is going to be performing pre-race. And if I have anything to do with it, she'll be performing at our tailgate post-race...

I'm predicting another 48 win, but 88 and 20 are looking really strong right now too. And Charlotte is home for Junior, so it should give him an extra jolt of confidence coming in.

If y'all are lucky, I'll give a full report post-race. Jessica will help.

Sex on Fire as a ringtone

Is that ok with everybody? It's my new favorite song by Kings of Leon, and I think it's just fine as a ringtone. However, people in my office heard it today and thought it was crude. Eff that. So maybe it's not appropriate for the office environment, but otherwise, I'm keeping it. Check it out if you want.

So how's everyone doing? It's been a while. I seem to remember saying something about taking it easy and focusing on spending more time with the stella artois friends in my life. Well, let's just say I'm trying. It's hard though, to avoid the routine of the social scene. Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday are automatics, and every once in a while I'll be dangerous and mix in a Monday and/or Thursday. So as you might guess, cutting back has been difficult. And my miller lite friends are not being supportive. However, continuing to go out has its rewards. I've now introduced the Haiglebomb to dozens more lucky Raleigh-ites, and last week, even to some San Diego-ans. Check out the size of this sushi roll I had in San Diego! It was about 2.5" in diameter. And it was en fuego. No way can you eat this thing without losing half of it in your soy sauce or lap. And its not bad enough that the damn thing is so huge, but there has to be this table full of young ladies sitting within three feet of me just laughing their pretty little asses off. I had several comebacks at the ready, but I decided to swallow, not spit.

Coming of age

People say I'm the life of the party cuz I tell a joke or two. And they're usually right. But recently, I've changed my stance on being the life of the party. Maybe its my age, maybe its what I've been going through, or maybe its just a phase. But something in this guy is a changin'.

Like most (I hope), it is always positive reinforcement to know that "hey, people like me" - but until recently, I think I was more focused on quantity rather than quality. You know, you have your miller lite friends, the dozens of folks you know on a full-name basis (thanks facebook) and enjoy seeing at bars and out on the town. And then you have your stella artois friends, the ones you really like to spend a lot of time with. The ones you take your time getting to know, and the ones you know will always be there for you when you need them.

So I think I'm going to take a little break from going out, from facebooking, from blogging, from meeting new people just for the hell of it. A new approach is needed and warranted. I'm going to focus on getting to know my good friends better. Who knows if its the right move? I guess some of you will find out, others won't! Until later, adieu.

Remembering Ray LaFontaine

Slow day at work...

I know I'm a day or so late on this...but who cares. I'm not google or cnn. Get your breaking news elsewhere. I just wanted to celebrate the life and accomplishments of the man with the golden [movie trailer] voice.

Just think of how many trailers he must have done...and how some of the scripts must have been so awful, he could barely get through them. For example, "The Day After Tomorrow" is my favorite trailer of all time...it's probably the worst name for a movie ever.

"Just when you think you're safe, the most horrific winter storm of all time attacks...its... 'the day after tomorrow'. But if it doesn't hit until tomorrow, it'll be "today". And if it doesn't come until Saturday, it'll be "two days from now"... but i digress. Ray could make anything sound unbelievable. I paid my 7.50 to see The Day After Tomorrow, and I have to admit, the trailer was better than the movie.


He will always be remembered and admired for having a talent no one else can put on their resume. Good luck to anyone trying to follow in his golden footsteps.

The haiglebomb...my latest creation

Who likes jagerbombs? If you're not raising your hand, please discontinue reading. Talk to you later.

For those still with me, I think I've created a new twist on the old reliable jagerbomb shot. It takes a bit of the edge off the typical jagerbomb (which should help you convince the more proper ladies they can handle it) and won't cost any more!

You ready?
Here are the ingredients of the "haiglebomb":
1.5 oz Jagermeister
1.5 oz Red Bull
1 large orange slice (not the drink, the fruit)

Directions for use: Pour jager in first, follow it with Red Bull, then take the orange slice and squeeze the juice into the mix. Try to avoid slices with seeds.

I wouldn't recommend trying too many of these in one night, but trust me, it's a new fad that's sweeping the nation. Give it a try this weekend and let me know what you think.

Navigating the current channels of communication protocols

The most incredible headline I've ever written. All the way back to my high school newspaper column days. I was "Study Hall Guy" for all those inquiring minds...

I have a question for all you gen Xers, millenials and general communication gurus. How exactly are we supposed to communicate with each other these days? Let me list all the methods by which I can be contacted, and you'll have a better idea of what I'm talking about:
Cell phone
Text message
Work phone
Work e-mail
Work fax
Personal e-mail 1
Personal e-mail 2
Personal e-mail 3
AIM
G-chat
Skype
Facebook
Myspace
Linkedin
Flickr
Youtube
Snail mail

I guess my question is, why did we make communicating so difficult on ourselves? I mean, I like the speed of the web-related communication outlets, but greatly prefer the personal touch of phone calls, snail mail, and gasp, personal interaction. And following that logic, does it make phone numbers and home addresses that much more personal, and therefore, guarded? E-mail addresses, Facebook, Myspace, and AIM are all free, so if you want to change any of those, you can at any time with relatively little hassle. But if I'm trying to keep in touch with a greater number of people than I have in the past, what is the most efficient means of doing so? My instinct says Facebook or Myspace, but I wonder if everyone else sees it that way. There have to be the old school communicators amongst us that haven't yet adopted text messaging as an acceptable form of communication, and that's their prerogative. But seeing the dramatic increase in membership on the social networking sites over the last two years leads me to believe the communication paradigm is shifting completely.

I just want to know if Facebook is really going to be the way I keep in touch with my "network" for the next 10 years or so. If it's not, what else out there is better? How could I combine all the ways I can communicate into one, effective channel? Would I even want to do that?

Anyway, an aimless rant, just some thoughts that might stir the pot of communicators out there. Holler back. However you may choose...

Haiglebomb's high school reunion

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times, reunions are dumb. However, even given my firm stance on the subject, I was able to have a great time at my 10 year high school reunion this weekend. It's not a family reunion, where you have to pretend to like everyone. It's high school, so there are still cliques and outcasts, but now everyone's a few years older, slightly heavier, and relatively the same as they were way back when. There were no scuffles in the parking lot or smoking in the bathrooms, which was a bit of a surprise given the number of those that went on 10-14 years ago.

I think everyone I talked to genuinely had a good time. And I have to say, the single most common topic of conversation was...not kids (although that was pretty common as well), not work, not marriage...it was facebook. Really. Some are new to it, so catching up has been a bit difficult. But everyone sees the benefit of being on the fb train, as it helped us all catch up more quickly than we would have been able to without it. So there's that.

A few of the crucial peeps I wanted to see didn't show, but I was also pleasantly surprised by seeing a few others I had lost touch with. Most notable absent were: Bradford (lazy), Celestino (in hiding), Bowling (at the Bristol race), Debbie T (no idea), Lisa B (no idea), Amee B (studying), BJ Smith (no idea), and Jaleema (no idea).

I enjoyed catching up with everyone and look forward to the next one. Although in the meantime, let's try to keep in touch!

Sports Bras in Office Buildings

Not a likely combination is it? Well, the phenomenon that is a sports bra combined with the lobby of an office building, was witnessed today by yours truly. I was sitting outside, nibbling on some lunch, when out of nowhere, this brazen amazon came striding into my periphery. With radar attuned for circumstances such as this, I immediately set my plan for attack. I would slink down below the wire mesh picnic table, crabwalk across the sidewalk, and courteously interrupt this specimen to save her from becoming a spectacle inside the lobby of my building.

Well, I had a plan. Unfortunately, before I could remember how to crabwalk correctly, she was out of sight. I have no idea who she is, where she came from, or why she was running.

All I know is, next time I'll do my duty for the man race. I'll save her from embarrassment and mockery and drown her in chivalry and...and...well, you get the point. I'll sit her down and have a nice chat. Become good friends. Help her adjust to living life as a crazy, sports-bra-wearing office-working professional. Just have to get this damn crabwalk cramp out of my calf...

So much drama in the SLC...UPDATE!

Is Salt Lake City a cool place to go? I mean, it can't be right? I guess it suffers from stereotypes just like the South, so we'll just have to see if it lives up to its reputation. I've been through the SLC airport once or twice, and the only thing I recall was the complete lack of ethnic balance. Lots of blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skinned folks. Not much color there. It was a bit eerie actually. Like I was in a horror movie, and everybody knew it except me. I hope this next trip is different. Full report to come on Monday. Until then, miss me.

UPDATE...
Turns out Salt Lake City is pretty fun. Some nice restaurants, nice people, and awesome weather.
However, I noticed some significant areas of concern that inquiring minds should be aware of:

1. Liquor drinks require the addition of "sidecars" - I had no idea that such a thing existed. I'm used to bartenders wanting to get you tanked so you either forget your card or give them a monstrous tip. These folks pour shots in thimbles and then dump them into mammoth high ball glasses. You are forced to order and additional shot (aka "sidecar") to bump up the alcoholic content to a satisfactory level.
   
2. The streets of downtown City del Salt Lake are so wide that when the white walking man stops chirping and the red hand starts counting down from 20, you better already be halfway, or else you're going to get run the eff over. Saw it happen. To a bum. It was just a nudge, but one the poor hobo will remember it for quite some time.
3. There is a dramatic difference between the two main hotels: The Little America and The Grand America. I mean, I should have guessed from the name, but Little America left a lot to be desired. I mean, it was cool that there was a phone next to the shitter. And that they actually give you keys to your room instead of those convenient credit card-looking keys like every other hotel I've been to in the last 15 years. And that the whole place smells like rotting fish. Or a burning laundromat. Depended on the time of day. Now the Grand America was top notch. And within spitting distance of Little. Which made it suck. Why put two similarly named, affiliated hotels right next to each other if there is such a wide discrepancy between the two? Am I wrong here? I just don't understand the logic that the Americas had when they built the Grand. Why put it right next to the Little? And was it even called Little before Grand came along? Or was it just America? Kind of makes you think...maybe they'll build a third and call it The Biggest America. But then they couldn't open a fourth one without changing the naming scheme to something more appropriate. Something like: Shitty One, Much Better than Shitty One, Just Slightly Better than Much Better than Shitty One, and Only Slightly Better than Slightly Better than Much Better than Shitty One. Yeah, that would make a lot more sense.
   

To Camaro, or not to Camaro?

So I'm thinking about pulling the trigger on one of my all-time favorite things in the world. I'm considering the purchase of a first generation Camaro, similar to the beauty above.
But as a conscientious dude in marketing of all things, I'm also trying to think about the consequences of owning a car like this. I mean, when I see dudes driving classic muscle cars like this, I'm honestly envious. But I have a feeling that when other people see dudes driving souped up, loud, tire-squealing hot rods, some of them think: "That guy's making up for something - down there..."
I'd like some opinions from my devout readers. Let me know what you think. On a scale of 1-10, 1 being "Do what you want, it's a badass ride!" and 10 being "Dude, seriously?"

When life hands you lemons...

The hard times are always trying on a person's soul. They test your resolve, your spirit, your fortitude. It would be out of character for me to say that I'm good at dealing with tragedy. Who is? I've recently been caught off guard, and I'm trying my damnedest to keep my head above water. I'm not sure how this will all end up. And without going into detail, just be thinking about the Rettster for the next few months as I deal and heal.

Woodie, Woodster, Woodrow

So there's this guy I know. We'll call him Wood. He's a good 'ole southerner with a penchant for mayo and bacon sandwiches, typically grilled to perfection on a George Foreman. He's in my fantasy football league, and due to some luck, some injuries, and the inability of the NFL to recognize that the 17th week of the season gets fantasy teams into the playoffs (thanks Tony Dungy for playing Jim Sorgi for 3 entire quarters), he was able to squeak out a league championship a couple years ago.
Now most of the guys in our league are not what you call "humble," but that said, most of them joke and can be joked with. Wood, on the other hand, can dish it out with the best of them (he's right up there with D. Trump talking about Rosie's fat ass), but when his character is defamed (is that a word?), he gets righteous. Pure and simple. The kid is wacky. Has been since I've know him. Fun to be around, impossible to argue with. You will never win. He will stoop to any level, particularly levels that involve mothers, sisters, weight (he has recently abandoned his mayo/bacon diet and slimmed down), music, athleticism (funny, considering his severe lack of athletic ability due to "ACL surgery" and evident from one view of his awful golf swing) and just about anything else.
Anyway, not trying to slam the kid, just had to write something to get the comments rolling in. Meanwhile, check out the picture (he's the doof in the blue shirt).

Josh Hamilton > Roy Hobbs

They call him "The Dream" - well he lived up to that moniker last night. The single most incredible performance I've ever seen in baseball. I've been a fan of the game for 25 years, and I can't remember seeing anything like it. In case you missed it, the All Star Home Run Derby was last night. Josh Hamilton hit last in the first round, needing 7 home runs to make it through to the second round. In an incredible display of talent, strength and gumption, Josh hit 28 home runs in the first round, the most ever in one round of the derby. He put his stamp on the post-steroids era of baseball.
Josh being from Raleigh is just icing on the cake. The buzz around town about him so far this season is amazing. He is in the conversation for MVP, the triple crown, and is currently leading the majors in RBI with 95. So instead of talking about the coming college football season, or the latest NASCAR results, people out on the town are actually talking baseball. Baseball! Girls even! He's had a lasting impact in just one half-season, and it's a tribute to him.
His story continues to get better every day. And I can't wait to see what happens next. Congratulations, Josh, you just might have a movie made of your life, and Roy Hobbs won't be able to hold a candle to you.

Fantasy Football update

I'm keeping Peyton Manning, Marshawn Lynch (pictured, but which one is he?) and Larry Fitzgerald. To the other potential keepers on my team (Lendale White, Edgerrin James, Vincent Jackson and Matt Hasselbeck), may you have long and illustrious careers. You hurt me more than you helped me you losers.

One guy in our league is keeping Tony Romo, Adrian Peterson and Terrell Owens. I'm thinking he's the man to beat at this point.

iPhonin' it up

I've had my 8 GB iPhone for about a month now, and yes, the new one coming out at $199.99 is a bit annoying, but I don't see the need to trade mine in. I'm getting access to the Apps Store, and a free upgrade to the 2.0 software. So really, I'm not getting the 3g and the GPS. I think I can do without those features for a while. It's not that often that I find myself in a non-wireless area. Work, home, hotels, airports, most nice rental houses on vacation have it too. So no biggie. I'll be interested to see all the cool apps that come out. I'll pass along a review of my favorites in the next few days.

Interesting Observations from the Felt, Volume 1

Sunday, July 6th, 12am. Fayetteville Street Tavern, Raleigh, NC.

I'm in the final five of a 12 person tournament. I'm chip leader by a little bit, with the other big stack directly to my left. He's the only player I'm really concerned about, even though a WSOP vet is directly to my right.

So, one hand caused my night to end prematurely. The player to my left, I'll call him "Big Donkey" or "BD" for short, has been his typical calling station self all night long. Blinds are 500/1000, I'm big blind with J/10 off and he opens with a 3x BB raise. Next player pushes with about 5k, everyone after folds, I call, BD of course calls. Flop comes J 8 9 rainbow. I'm feeling good, and check it one time. He checks as well. Turn is a J. I bet 5k. He pushes all in. He has been using position power all night, and that's part of his game. It wasn't this time. I call. He has K/J. I missed a boat and the straight on the river, and he took 90% of my chips.

I'm not accusing him of playing this hand poorly. He's built his rep around playing bad hands, and it happened to work for him this time. Blind checks, blind calls, reckless calls, etc. I enjoy playing against him because it adds an element of the unknown, even more so than with most other players. It seems like I can read him most hands, but this one had me completely lost. I couldn't give him credit for a J, much less a J with a better kicker. I put him on a pocket pair of some sort, which he's been known to overvalue, and I just got hosed. No other way to describe it. I could say it was bad luck, but I know I'll be more cautious next time. Rematch is tonight, 7:30pm. I'll let you know what happens.

Poker > Sleep

Playing poker is more vital to my survival as a human than sleep. Apparently. I've played in 7 tournaments since last Monday, and I have two more tonight. Average finish? 3rd. One win and two seconds. I'm crazy. I replay hands in my head all the time.

On occasion, I'm going to describe interesting observations from the felt in a column I'll call "Interesting Observations from the Felt, Volume X". Original, I know. First one to follow this post.

4th

Plans for the day: drinking beer and grilling steaks at the lake with friends. God Bless America.

Fantastic Football

So the deadline for deciding on keepers for the Yahoo! fantasy football league I run is coming up. If you're in the league, you're in the right spot. I'll expectorate some wisdom here for you guys as it hits me.

Biggest decision for me right now is whether or not to keep Lendale White, RB for the Titans. I picked him up in a late round last year, so he won't hurt my supplemental draft opportunities, and I think he's a decent source of 8-9 trash TDs and 800 or so yds on the ground. But, if you read the pundits' pure trash, the whole Titans team is garbage, except for Rob Bironas, the kicker. Seriously? The kicker is the best player on the team - fantastically speaking.

I'm definitely keeping Peyton Manning and Larry Fitzgerald, and with those two kept, I won't be picking out of the free agent draft until the third round. So I have to hope a decent RB is available at that point. I had Edge last year, and he was so inconsistent that I benched him in favor of White several times last year. Or, I can keep Marshawn Lynch as my top RB, but that would mean I wouldn't have a pick in the free agent draft until round 4. And that's just too long to hope I can pick up another WR worth anything. And I'm not dealing with Reggie Williams again this year.

More fantastic football posts to come...stay tuned.

The first of many

Short and sweet. I'm joining blognation because I enjoy the faux power. It's intoxicating. I shall drink of it's nectar daily.

Some of my favorite blogs, should you care: barstoolsports.com, davelozo.com (formerly Why Don't We Get Drunk and Blog?), deadspin.com, brahsome.com.

Influences on my writing style and rapier wit: Ma, Ash, A-Train, Seabass, Tripper, D-Lo, Adam Sandler, Jim Carrey, Drew Carey, anybody with any last name similar to Carey, except Chip Caray, who is an idiot sports analyst.

Day job: Advertising.
Night job: Poker extraordinairre.
Free time time-passing usually includes: Hanging with the bosslady.